Recycling Road Kill

On my morning run I saw a rabbit that had been flattened, cartoon style. Remarkably, there was no blood, no guts, and the only thing mildly disturbing was that his eyeball was missing.

What ordinarily happens is: vultures come to feed, and traffic mayhem ensues. In addition, SUV-driving suburban mothers are afraid of the vultures and are convinced that they’re going to fly off with their children and pick the flesh off their bones causing a slow, excruciatingly painful death.

I’m not kidding.

Then there’s the reality that drivers often hit the vultures, accidentally or otherwise, creating an even bigger mess.

This situation got so bad in West Palm Beach that the government considered hiring a sharpshooter to kill a couple of the birds, then display their carcasses in an attempt to warn the rest.

But, um, don’t vultures feed on dead creatures? Wouldn’t West Palm be simply presenting them with dinner? Luckily, reasonable people objected and the discussion was tabled.

I digress. Back to my bunny.

I gently pulled it by its ears to a patch of grass where vultures could safely feed on it.  I figured that was a win-win proposition. Nevertheless, a neighbor thought I should have thrown out the rabbit, thereby not inviting the vultures. And a friend thought I was disrespecting the bunny and should have buried it respectfully with some kind of ritual that grants it well wishes on its journey to the other side.

Here’s my gray matter: Don’t the vultures deserve a good meal? The bunny was already dead, for heaven’s sake! Besides, I thought there was some kind of safety regulation that includes a fine for disposing of carcasses of unknown origin. And why bury a perfectly tasty morsel that could feed someone? What happened to the circle of life?